


Oatmeal Raisin

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Baking, Christophe Giacometti Being Christophe Giacometti, Christophe Giacometti is a Little Shit, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Phichimetti until we die, Post-Canon, Spanking, a little spice with your powdered sugar, and yes I know oatmeal raisin cookies don't need powdered sugar suspend your disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 14:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Phichit is 100% done with Christophe and his shenanigans.





	Oatmeal Raisin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PoisonMantis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonMantis/gifts).



“Alright, alright. You, blondie, need to get out of my kitchen before I toss you out.” Phichit giggled, pushing his boyfriend off the linoleum floor and into the dining room. “You’ve made a mess of my beautiful, spotless kitchen and I’ve had just about enough.”

Chris couldn’t fight back his own laughter at the adorable face of his boyfriend, powdered sugar sprinkled over his cheekbone and in his hair, turning the deep, chocolate brown gray in some places. “Ah, _pardon_ , love. I could clean it up with my tongue, if it would atone for my grievous sin…” he teased back, winking like the horrid tease he is, and Phichit couldn’t help but picture it. 

He shook his head to clear his mind of the image before it settled in. _At least not until the cookies are done_ , he told himself, very much not in the mood to burn down their new town house. They’d never get their deposit back. Chris chuckled, his voice full of gravel and honey as he plopped down at the island, surely getting even more powdered sugar on the leather barstools they had just picked out. 

“Nope! Not on my new stool, Giacometti. Either change your clothes or get out of the kitchen.” Phichit warned, the stern tone making Chris laugh again. He held up his hands in surrender, slinking down the hall to their bedroom, sending another wink over his shoulder as he went. Phichit watched those perfect cheeks bounce along down the hallway and he pushed out a sharp breath and a final laugh before turning back to the task at hand.

Phichit hummed softly as he finished sliding the cookie tray into the oven, bumping the door with his hip and setting the small timer on the counter. He and Chris hadn’t been living together long, but after Chris retired, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, at least in the off-season. 

Chris did a lot of work with the Swiss skating teams, choreographing and consulting on their social media and, of course, doing his due diligence and making public appearances with the team. And Chris didn’t mind at all when he suddenly had a press conference to attend on the same day Phichit had left a line of hickeys down his throat. 

Phichit was still skating, and enjoying doing so. But the spare few weeks he had for the off season were precious, and the two of them crammed as much domesticity in as they could. On this particular afternoon, they had decided to make cookies together, an activity that quickly devolved into something else entirely.

Phichit smiled softly to himself and turned to the kitchen island, currently covered in dirty mixing bowls and glassware with a light dusting of white coating absolutely everything, the aftermath of a powdered sugar fight with a toddler masquerading as his boyfriend.

“Christophe, I swear to God, you’re a child.” Phichit mumbled under his breath as he reached into the pantry closet for a broom and dustpan, ready to sweep up the mess he had created on the floor. He heard his footsteps brush over the wood floor and into the kitchen, a single finger run down the length of his spine as he bent over to find the dustpan.

“What was that, _mon chou_?” Chris crooned, a smile audible on his lips. “I’m a child, am I?” he teased, backing away when Phichit moved to stand upright again. Phichit turned on his heel, and he really should have expected it. 

Chris stood there, in the bright afternoon sun, in full view of their second-floor bay windows, bare-ass naked. 

"And what, exactly, are you doing?" Phichit asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the silhouette of his bare boyfriend, and the horrified look that their neighbors gave them from across the street. "Do you plan to continue gracing the entire city with your peachy cheeks, or are you going to cover up?" he laughed, focusing on the task at hand as opposed to his very naked boyfriend. Chris smiled and shook his head.

"Nope. My boyfriend said that I was making a mess, so I eliminated the problem. So now I'm not making a mess of your barstools, and I want to watch you clean. Or bend over the sink to be enjoyed like the treat that I am. Either works." Chris insisted, sitting down again, his chin in his hands. 

Phichit snorted as he began sweeping up the sugar, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're impossible, baby."

"Impossibly _horny, ma petit_." Chris said, his voice almost a purr. 

Phichit flashed his dark eyes at Chris, who didn't so much as flinch in the face of his nonverbal challenge. He set the broom aside for a moment, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Get over here, you dingus." Phichit said, resigned to his fate as a permanent Giacometti wrangler.

Chris smiled gleefully and stood, rounded the island and, without being told, bent himself in half over their kitchen sink. "I knew you'd come around to it, Peach." Chris snickered, feeling the warmth of one hand in the small of his back.

Immediately followed by a hard smack of a rubber spatula against his ass.

Chris yelped and immediately straightened, rubbing his stinging right asscheek. _"C'était pour quoi?!"_ Chris cried out, his meticulously sculpted brows furrowing in the middle.

"For being a nuisance. Now get out of my kitchen, and I won't tell you a third time, baby." Phichit threatened, wielding the spatula like a paddle. "And Jesus Christ, put some pants on. At least some undies?"

"Mmm, don't want to." Chris retorted, staying right where he was, turning to lean against the cabinets, amid all the mess and the smell of oatmeal cookies baking in the oven. Phichit's eyes fell to the place between Chris's thighs, where it was clear that things weren't going to de-escalate from here.

"Can't this at least wait until the cookies are done?" Phichit laughed, smacking the spatula in his hand and watching Chris twitch with interest.

"I'm afraid not."

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, it's a two-fer day. Have some bottom bitch™ Chris courtesy of PoisonMantis who did me a favor and this is my thank you because I have no marketable skills
> 
> Hope you liked this! Leave me a bread crumb of love and drop a kudos, or a comment if you like!
> 
> ❤️ IA ❤️  
> [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAtheAuthor)


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